Sandstorms howled; bats screeched through the grit.
Two figures stepped out of the chaos, their auras colliding in shockwaves that shook the seabed. The pressure slammed into Phantom Tiger—he only grinned.
"Tsk, tsk… Not just Crocodile. You too, Moria—Darren's lapdogs now?"
His gaze slid from Moria's corpse-pale face to Crocodile, lingering on the stumps at their shoulders. He chuckled.
"If I recall, that bastard took both your arms."
Their expressions iced over.
Crocodile blew a ribbon of smoke. "I'm not here on his orders. I'm here to find a fight worth having."
Yellow sand spun to life in his palm, swelling in an instant into a raging maelstrom as he hurled it forward.
"Sandstorm."
The desert gale roared. Coral and kelp shriveled to dust as moisture drained out of them. The ground groaned, splitting under the strain. Phantom Tiger's eyes twitched.
He's stronger than the reports.
But—
His hoof slammed down. In his hybrid form the tiger threw up both clawed fists, muscles cording.
"Rokuogan."
The shockwave detonated. The sandstorm blew apart.
Through the flying grit, two shapes flashed and crashed together.
Steel rang. A purple-lit greatsword met claws drowned in black Haki, the lock spitting sparks that lit the feral smiles on Phantom Tiger and Moria's faces.
The ground collapsed in a bowl around them. Coral and boulders leapt skyward.
"I didn't take you for a real fighter," Phantom Tiger murmured, eyes bright as he licked his lips.
Moria's stare devoured the black haze coiling off the tiger's frame. "Kishishishi… a Zoan Awakening. A brute like you would make a very fine zombie."
"You're dead already." Phantom Tiger pivoted, his kick smashing into Moria's blade and booting him back dozens of meters. Moria plowed a trench before skidding to a halt.
Play along, then.
Both of them were Devil Fruit users. Up close, the advantage was his.
He let his arms hang loose, predator-calm, pupils narrowed to slits. "Two Shichibukai down before breakfast might make a decent warm-up."
A knife-edged shriek split the water.
Something came screaming at him faster than thought. Phantom Tiger crossed his arms, Haki jetting black.
A hawk-green slash engulfed him and carved straight through a coral mountain twenty meters high.
The reef exploded, dust geysering as a crater-long fissure tore the ground open.
"Who's intruding now?"
He staggered from the rubble, blood running from his forearms in bright sheets.
A one-armed swordsman stood in the wind, a massive black blade scalloped like a saw resting easy in his grip. The man's cloak snapped. Those cold, predatory eyes lifted.
"So it's trash like you that dares covet Darren-san's territory."
Trash?
Phantom Tiger blinked. One second. Two.
Then he barked laughter until his ribs hurt. "Hawk-Eyes, you arrogant whelp. What a joke!"
Sand and shadow rose flanking the swordsman, forming the familiar silhouettes.
"Don't steal my lines," Crocodile drawled around his cigar.
"I don't care who gets the kill. I just want the body," Moria hissed, eyes glittering.
Mihawk didn't spare them a glance. His gaze never left the tiger. "Just don't drag us down. If you wreck Darren-san's plans, I won't be lenient."
Twin snorts.
Listening to them talk past him, Phantom Tiger's fury turned brittle and sharp.
"One… two… three…"
"You three think you can take me?"
"You've never seen a real fight."
"Let me show you—true strength."
Black smoke boiled off him into whip-fast tongues of flame. The deep gashes along his arms knit before their eyes, closing at a shocking pace.
"Hahaha… I'm no god like Their Excellencies, but a Zoan Awakening is unbeatable up close."
Red pupils blazed. He dropped to all fours, claws gouging stone, a feral aura bursting out so thick it tasted of iron.
Yes. This is the edge.
With Awakening, even a master swordsman like Mihawk—once I'm in his chest—
"The advantage is still—Nani?!"
A boot, black and gleaming, filled his vision.
Black-red lightning detonated as it hit. The kick cracked the water like thunder, the impact screaming hard enough to shatter stone and split clouds. It smashed straight into Phantom Tiger's face.
Blood sprayed. A tiger fang spun away.
The world reeled. He flew like a shot shell, vision tunneling to a ragged circle—through which a figure strode, half god, half devil, golden hair flaring like a mane, body limned in crimson-black lightning, a Shura's shadow wrapped around him.
Douglas Bullet…
The demon heir!
To be continued...